Simple Things
by LaviniaAngell
Summary: Zoe and Wash, from the beginning to the end. Six chapters total, posting in progress.


Zoe woke with a start, sweat-slick skin chilling quickly against stale air. She groped at the lightswitch, scanning the room for signs of anything amiss as she struggled to control her breath. _War nightmares, after all this time_. She had been on Serenity only a few months, but already she was growing resigned to the fact that the change of scene had done little to ease her troubled mind.

She hated that she feared sleep, that she dreaded the solitude of her bunk each night. Pulling a robe around her body she grimaced, feeling the silk plaster itself to her perspiring flesh. The metal floor cut mercilessly against the soles of her feet as she crossed to the ladder and hauled herself up.

It was Bester's shift at the helm, and a quick glance confirmed that he was dozing in the pilot's seat. Turning around again she contemplated how to pass the hours; there were few surfaces within the bounds of Serenity's hull that hadn't benefitted from Zoe's insomnia in one way or another. Having witnessed Mal's attempt at dishwashing the previous evening she thought the galley as good a place to begin as any.

Padding down the hall she paused, toes curling beneath her. The nextmost bunk was cracked open, warm light spilling up and catching the golden threads of her silk robe. She held her breath, straining her ears for any sound from below. Nothing.

Looking aft she considered the galley again. It loomed, dark and lonely at the end of the hall. Beneath her there was light, perhaps even laughter. She bit her lip thoughtfully, taking a hesitant breath through flared nostrils. An instant later the first rung of the ladder was in her hand.

She found him splayed unselfconsciously in a tangle of sheets, every light in the room still burning and a sheaf of schematics and star charts scattered across his chest. He looked so pale, almost angelic in the harsh light.

Once more Zoe contemplated what she was about to do. He had made no secret of his interest, his attraction – a part of her would be gratified to admit he'd likely turned down better jobs in order to try for her. She put it down to the whole warrior-woman thing, a clichéd response from indecisive men that Zoe had come to rebuff with little more than a sigh. Right now, however, his thought process was supremely unimportant. He was warmth, he was light; he was a passel of life to replace the images of friends dead and dying in the mud of the war.

"Wash."

He woke with a snort and she almost laughed, but the sound caught in her throat at the look that overtook his features. Sleepy eyes took her in, widened in shock, then glowed with pleasure and curiosity, and even a hint of concern. It was inexplicable. He looked as though he wished to take her hand rather than her body in the manly fashion she desired.

She moved to sit at the edge of his narrow bunk. To her chagrin he drew away, making room for her to settle. And so she sloughed off his pity by slipping her robe off of her shoulders, her torso fairly gleaming as it was bared inch by inch.

" _Tian pu sa wu si qu tian tang..."_ Wash breathed, eyes wide. He even reached up to rub the lids as though he believed he could be dreaming.

"Drop the dramatics and kiss me, Wash," Zoe commanded.

He did so readily, lifting his sleep-tousled head to one breast and gently taking the puckered nipple into his mouth. She closed her eyes, sensation washing away pain, if only for a moment. She felt his hands, warm from sleep and soft around her narrow waist. And then he drew himself up, nestled her hips against his, cradled her as his hands reached for her unruly hair, stroked up to the back of her neck, buried themselves in her curls as he drew her in. Their lips met softly at first. He took her lower lip between his and ever so sweetly kissed her. Kissed her harder. Pulled away when she began to respond in kind, and lowered his lips to the base of her neck, drawing a low moan from a place she hadn't known could be reached. Her mind raced. He was acting so...

 _Oh my God_ , she thought. _Wash is in love with me._

He loved her too much to tell her.

He loved her enough not to question her now.

She felt her body softening under his touch. He was beside her now, arms around her, pushing her slowly down, their bodies pressed together with such exquisite tension that she found herself letting go of it all. He trapped her with his arms. No, not trapped. Protected. It was then that she realized, only moments too late, how generous he truly was. She revolted at the thought of taking advantage of him, but couldn't bring herself to push him away. And yet he seemed to know; his hands never took from her, only gave. He pulled and pushed and stroked her fear away. And slowly, slowly, she surrendered.

Zoe woke up retching. Stumbled to the sink. Rinsed down the bile that emerged from her sobbing throat. She was frigid, sweat-soaked, feverish almost. Soon all that was left was the sobbing, which she quickly tucked away in its place, quelled with deep breaths. She sat on the edge of the empty bed, the image still burned against the backs of her eyelids. Wash, smiling. Wash, with a reaver's stake plunged through his heart. His blood, everywhere. His eyes, stunned and open.

Tears ran down her face, unstoppable this time. Her bed was cold, and she knew that if she didn't do something, her heart soon would be too.

She had vomited every morning since Wash's death. Her reaction to thoughts of him, hard as she tried to suppress them, had turned physical.

A step near her door sounded, and a gentle knock. Probably Mal, making rounds. Zoe dried her eyes and quickly cleared her throat.

"What is it?" she called. The door to her bunk was pushed in, and heavy, buckled boots took the first steps down only to be followed by the delicate hem of a layered skirt. River stopped halfway down the door and clung to it like a sailor on the Jacob's ladder. Wide eyes looked at Zoe, took in her bedraggled appearance. And then she held out her hand, offered a small object.

"I brought you the first present," she said in her queer way.

Zoe stood and took it. It was a small, soft bundle wrapped in old food packaging and tied with a bit of green ribbon. Inside she found what looked to be a piece of Wash's warmest sweater, but cut to pieces and stitched into something else. Anger welled within her. How could that little _ang zhang zhe_ have opened the boxes of Wash's things that she had exiled to the cargo bay weeks before, waiting to be dumped off at the next stop...

But River's wide eyes stopped her. The girl looked frustrated, as though there was something Zoe had missed.

"It's a hat," she said sharply. "For the baby."


End file.
